


All's Faire

by Rollingjules



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alcohol, Bad Jokes, Comedy, Cosplay, Episode: s06e03 Monsters & Mana, Established Relationship, Fake Accents, Food, Gift Giving, Historical Reenactment, M/M, Mild Language, Misunderstandings, POV Alternating, Performance Art, Renaissance Faires, Sappy, Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Shopping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-06-15 16:31:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15417024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rollingjules/pseuds/Rollingjules
Summary: “Uh, well… have you ever been to a renfaire?” he asked hopefully.“Like, a Renaissance festival? Beer and turkey legs?”“Yeah!” It wasn’t an outright rejection, and Shiro could work with that.Keith gets invited to the Renaissance Faire! He frantically throws something together to wear because he put his foot in his mouth when Shiro asked if he wanted to dress up, so he shows up in an old button down and some boots with a Goodwill vest and zero expectations. He's not prepared to come face to face with a noble paladin.





	1. On a good faire morning

**Author's Note:**

> This has been in the making basically since season 6 came out. Gotta love those paladins, lol. Follow Keith and Shiro as they travel the faire [here!](http://www.ren-fest.com/plan-your-day/interactive-map/) The map isn't completely accurate to the fic, but this is just as much a love letter to the FLARF as it is to sheith and s6ep3, so what better way to pay homage!
> 
> Also, if you like to read with mood music, [this playlist ](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fIuO3RpMvHg/) is great for faire ambiance! 
> 
> Content warning for mentions of alcohol use! And, y'know, lots of swearing.

“So, do you have any plans for the weekend?”

 

It was Thursday, and Keith and Shiro were on a comfy dinner date at their favorite hole in the wall. Shiro was watching him fondly while Keith ate his egg salad sandwich.

 

“Nohpe,” he said around a mouthful of whole wheat and egg, “Totally free.”

 

Shiro thought bad table manners were adorable on Keith. He would take that secret to his deathbed.

 

“Feel like going out? There’s a thing going on, I was gonna spend my Saturday there.”

 

Keith didn’t like the casual vagueness Shiro was giving him.

 

“…What kind of ‘thing?’”

 

Pinned under Keith’s expectant look, Shiro’s plan to work up to the specifics crumbled.

 

“Uh, well… have you ever been to a renfaire?” he asked hopefully.

 

“Like, a Renaissance festival? Beer and turkey legs?”

 

“Yeah!” It wasn’t an outright rejection, and Shiro could work with that.

 

“I mean I’ve heard of them, but I’ve never had a reason to go to one. Have _you_ ever been?”

 

Ah. The question Shiro was afraid of. “Huh? Yeah,” he nodded, trying to sound nonchalant, “I’ve been to a couple. I thought it might be fun?”

 

Keith set his sandwich down and chuckled softly, smiling at him. “Shiro, you don’t have to be embarrassed about it, I’ll go. You aren’t like, _performing_ , are you?”

 

“Oh god no, just going. That would be… way too much work.” He laughed nervously, like he hadn’t spent hours imagining what it would be like.

 

“Alright then,” Keith coyly replied, “You should have plenty of time for _me_ , in that case.”

 

A gentle smile softened Shiro’s face as he reached across the table to rest his hand on top of Keith’s. “I always have time for you.”

 

 

 

 

Later that night, Shiro texted to ask if he wanted to wear costumes. Keith hadn’t thought about it, and in fact had mostly been thinking about the food. But Shiro had seemed so excited at dinner, talking about the events and the cool things to see – and he would be lying if he said that ‘knife throwing’ hadn’t caught his interest – so Keith said yes without even thinking about it. _Of course_ Shiro would want to dress up, that would be the cutest thing on the fucking planet and Keith wasn’t about to thumbs-down his fun.

 

It wasn’t until half an hour later, when he was dozing off, that Keith realized Shiro wanted them to dress up _together_.

 

Shit.

 

What did _he_ know about costumes? Some frantic googling later and Keith felt his stomach drop. It looked detailed and sophisticated, and _expensive_. It looked complicated. He had _a day_ to throw something together, and without express shipping to help him he was about to be up shit creek. He was going to embarrass himself _and_ let Shiro down.

 

 _Okay_ , he thought as he tried to calm down, _just slow up and think about this_. There was no need for fairy wings and body paint, no need to go crazy. And Shiro would have told him if it was gonna be something extra fancy, right? He could figure this out, he could put something together last-minute, even if it was just stringing a shoelace through holes in an oversized t-shirt. He could put in an effort, that’s all Shiro wanted, so Keith resolved to see what he could come up with in twenty-four hours. He’d written entire papers with less notice, he could handle layering some old clothes.

 

 

 

 

Late Friday afternoon, Keith stepped back to take in the whole outfit he’d laid out on his bed. He had to admit, he was impressed by what he’d scrounged up. An old white button-down – with some gravy stains that never quite came out… no big deal, that was just extra realism. Black jeans would have to do, but he could get away with it if he wore his tall boots. Plus, it helped that the boots were real leather; authenticity and all that. An emergency trip to Goodwill had yielded a thick leather belt to sling over one shoulder and an old vest that looked like it had once led a long and satisfying life as couch upholstery. Finished off with his carpenter’s belt from his old job at Home Depot, it didn’t look half bad. At least, so he hoped…

 

His phone buzzed while he was fretting about it, and he snapped it up quickly – Shiro, as he’d both hoped and feared. He swiped his thumb across the screen to read the text message.

 

 _‘I’m excited about tomorrow!’_ and… was that a _wizard_ emoji? Keith barked out a quiet laugh to himself, overcome with fondness for this huge _dork_ he’d been dating for six months. He made sure to tap out a quick reply before setting his phone back down.

 

_‘Can’t wait! Got my costume all ready. :)’_

 

As he was getting undressed to try out his full look, his phone buzzed again as a string of tearful faces and colorful hearts poured in from Shiro’s end. It made Keith smile to know he was making Shiro happy.

He tried out several different combinations and decided the vest looked best worn open. Plus, it would be cooler that way anyway. He tried make it work with the shoulder belt idea, but no matter what he did with it he mostly just felt stupid. What a waste of three dollars. Oh well, he’d probably just re-donate it later. The carpenter’s belt would be good for holding his stuff, though – he needed his pockets to be as empty as possible, just in case Shiro decided to sling an arm around him and tuck his hand into one. Keith was excited at the possibility. Shiro was loving and very affectionate, and Keith couldn’t find it in himself to mind.

 

 

 

 

On Saturday morning Keith woke up bright and early, as Shiro advised. Morning city traffic meant that it would be a real hassle for him to pick Shiro up and drive them both, like he preferred. They agreed it would be more practical to leave from their opposite ends of town and just meet up there. It was a bit of a bummer to not be starting his date with Shiro’s bright smile as he opened his front door or slid into his passenger seat, but he’d make do. He’d be spending the entire day with Shiro once he got there. He plugged his phone into the car to charge and shot off a quick text to let Shiro know he was heading out.

 

He’d been there before, but never when the faire was on. Every other time of year it was just a fancy recreation park, with an aquatic center and an old golf course-turned-events field. Keith had only ever been for an occasional change of scenery when he went jogging. Today though there were cars swarming in from every direction, with volunteers guiding them into the huge parking field. Feeling penned in by all the cars and people, Keith resisted his natural impulse to stress out about finding a spot. As he inched forward in the line of cars, gravel crunching beneath his tires, he glanced at his phone longingly in hopes that Shiro would text him. He’d feel better if he knew he was already here.

 

After an agonizing few minutes, Keith was finally at the head of the line. He followed the gestured instructions of a lady in a reflective vest down the latest row of cars and finally took a second to breathe.

 

 

 

“Are you up by the gate? I don’t see you.” Cellphone pressed up against his ear, Keith craned his neck to get a better look as he approached. It was a pretty fancy setup, with wooden towers and pennant flags, and triumphant horns playing over a loudspeaker. It reminded Keith of a rustic sort of Disney feel, like something out of a Harry Potter movie.

 

“ _Yeah, I’m right by the front at the ticket booth, I’m…. hang on_ ,” Shiro paused, presumably looking around to give him better directions.

 

Keith picked up the pace, turning his head this way and that to try and spot him. He saw the signs for the ticket booth, but with all the people milling around he couldn’t pick Shiro out.

 

“ _Okay, go up to the flag pole…_ ”

 

A hulking figure in a long dark cloak turned around near the ticket line. What he thought were massive shoulders resolved into broad armored pauldrons, a shining silver circlet on his forehead. A long tabard draped over his chest and full plate armor covered his legs, down to even his feet. And a distinctive scar rested across the bridge of his nose.

 

“ _Hey! I see you!”_

 

“Shiro, are you fucking _kidding_ me?”

 

He was torn as he took in the sight of Shiro trotting over to him. The suit of armor was impressive, and Shiro was as handsome as ever, but this went _way_ beyond just a casual “ _hey keith do you want to dress up on saturday? :)_ ” Keith folded his arms over his chest, not simply in annoyance but to hide how severely under-dressed he felt. Sure, he wasn’t a day drinker in a t-shirt sloshing a beer flute around, but he watched other attendees drift past in hoop skirts and leather armor and felt… out of place. Compared to them, it looked like he half-assed it and just showed up like he didn’t care. Like this was some college frat rat’s Halloween kegger and he just threw something on… Like he thought Shiro wasn’t worth putting in the effort for.

 

“Keith! You look great!” He was positively beaming.

 

Shiro must not have heard him.

 

“Yeah, thanks…” He was kicking himself. What did he _think_ it would look like to show up in a stained shirt and some couch upholstery? How could he have looked at this and thought it looked good? In his bathroom mirror it looked alright, but Keith hadn’t taken into account that a good subset of the population here looked like they stepped right off the set of _Game of Thrones_. Shiro himself was practically _resplendent_ , if not a little dorky (in a cute way); not to mention holy _shit_ he filled out that armor really nicely. Keith looked like he tumbled out of a middle school drama teacher’s costume closet.

 

Shiro must have sensed Keith’s mood souring; he stepped closer and reached out to hold Keith’s hands in his own, letting them hang between them.

 

“Baby, what’s wrong? Do you not want to be here?” Shiro had no way to see he was practically pouting just looking at him, but the moment Keith saw the frown on his face he started to feel badly about it.

 

“No, I _really_ want to be here. I just thought I’d done pretty good, but now… I feel like an idiot. I _look_ like an idiot. I’m gonna make you look bad.” he admitted, avoiding eye contact by gesturing at the detailed costumes around them.

 

Shiro scoffed, squeezing his hands tenderly. “I don’t know if you’ve ever looked in a mirror, Keith, but you could _never_ make me look bad.” The same soft smile he saved just for Keith bloomed across his face. It highlighted little spots where Shiro had failed to fully rub sunscreen into his skin. “I think you look really cool. Did you buy this just for today? I mean, no offense,” he grinned, reaching up to tug on the vest, “But this doesn’t look like something I would find in your closet.”

 

Rolling his eyes, Keith straightened the cloak draped over Shiro’s shoulders. “Yeah, well, not all of us have a fully equipped medieval wardrobe on hand, _your lordliness_.” It was just gentle teasing, but Shiro blushed anyway. He liked it when Keith teased him. “Haha…. Special occasion?” he tried, offering Keith a sheepish smile.

 

Keith wasn’t buying it. He leveled a flat look at Shiro, inspecting the shoulders with his fingertips. “Somehow I don’t think you rolled this out just for today. Damn, is that actual chainmail under there?”

 

“Okay, you caught me,” Shiro chuckled, and Keith pretended not to notice the way he puffed his chest out with pride before he continued. “I _made_ it. Well, I bought the chain shirt, but the armor I made. It’s my old paladin from a Monsters and Mana campaign, me and some buddies all made our characters for Halloween a few years back. Today was just a good excuse to get more mileage out of it… thermoplastic is expensive.”

 

“Wait a minute, _thermoplastic_?” Incredulous, Keith took a step back to take in the whole ensemble again.

 

“I mean, it’s not like, a big deal or anything. I watched a _lot_ of cosplay tutorials. It’s kinda fun, actually.” He was so calm about it. Conversational, like he hadn’t constructed an _entire suit of fantasy armor_ _for himself_ to wear at Halloween parties and the Renaissance faire.

 

“I’d hate to see what a _big_ deal is,” Keith couldn’t help but mutter. Shiro heard him, but let it slide with a grin.

 

 

 

As they moved to get in line for tickets, the odd protrusion slung across Shiro’s shoulders beneath the broad shield caught Keith’s eye. Realizing what it was stopped him in his tracks.

 

“You brought a _sword_ too?!” Keith gaped incredulously as he gestured to the weapon on Shiro’s back. Still a little pink in the cheeks, a splotch of sunscreen still drying over his scar, Shiro laughed casually.

 

“Oh, no, there’s no live steel allowed on the fairegrounds.” He reached back over his shoulder to grab the hilt, pulling it up out of the sheath to reveal a short stubby bit of grey foam.

 

“You can _buy_ them, but you have to pick them up later on your way out. It’s a safety thing.”

 

Looking at Shiro’s whole… ensemble, Keith couldn’t help but think that the entire event should be considered a ‘safety thing.’

 

“Seriously though,” Shiro began, changing the subject and taking Keith’s hand. “I didn’t mean for you to stress out about it, you should have told me you didn’t have a costume. That’s… kind of what I was hoping you’d say, actually.”

 

Keith frowned at him. “What do you mean? Why would you ask if you didn’t think I had one?”

 

The little smile on Shiro’s face was both hopeful and a little dazzling.

 

“Because if you said no, I was gonna offer to take you shopping once we got here as part of our date.”

 

God, it was _so_ like Shiro to hatch a plan to make Keith feel special. He squeezed Shiro’s hand, feeling his chest tighten up like it always did when Shiro was especially sweet.

 

“You’re a dork and I love you. Bonus points for trying to be a _smooth_ dork, too.”

 

“Ooh, I’m smooth now? Damn, maybe I should find some more costumes to wear.” Looking smug, Shiro squeezed back and pulled out his wallet. “Okay, they’ll need to see your ID for your 21-plus ticket. They wristband you, keeps the lines moving when we get inside. They just pour you a beer and go – well, I mean you _pay_ obviously but, y’know. You need food tickets for that, we can get those in a minute.”

 

As Keith grabbed his wallet out of his side pouch, Shiro was already stepping forward to pay for their tickets. They both flashed their ID, and after a quick wristbanding they were ready to go. Walking through the gates, Shiro seemed absolutely bubbly with excitement.

 

“I’m really excited to be here with you,” he said softly, that gentle smile reappearing.

 

“Stop it, you’re making me blush.” Though Keith didn’t want him to stop, not really. Shiro was the best thing to ever happen to him, and now that they’d been dating for a while Keith was surer than ever that without him, his life would be a lot different.

 

 

 

There was a lot for him to take in, and Shiro made sure to go at Keith’s pace so he could enjoy it. It smelled like kicked-up dirt and potent incense on the breeze, flags and baubles drifting gently in the wind. They passed tall pine trees decorated with banners and streamers, happy children in brightly colored costumes, a stage like a giant chess board, even a portly man selling pretzels carried on a tall pole. Keith watched the pretzel man with curious scrutiny, eyes narrowing.

 

“Are those- are those really for sale? That’s not his costume, right? He’s not _dressed_ as a pretzel… salesman?”

 

Shiro laughed, swinging their clasped hands wide between them. “Nope, he’s selling the pretzels. Check out his fanny pack, he keeps the napkins in there.” He pointed it out to him, almost conspiratorial in the way he leaned in.

 

“Well… where does the money go?”

 

“The _other_ fanny pack,” Shiro nodded sagely. “Do you want one?”

 

“Nah, I’m not hungry yet. Hey, how big is this place?”

 

“Here, I can show you!” Shiro fiddled underneath his cloak, and Keith caught sight of a sling backpack. _Cheater_ , he thought to himself with a warm smile. Shiro pulled out a vibrant paper map, holding it out in front of them to let Keith see.

 

“Here’s where we are right now,” he began, pointing just to the right of the entrance down at the bottom. “The parking lot is south of us, and it’s a pretty big sprawl. They kinda keep the same setup every year, makes it easier to find your way around. Always different vendors and stuff, though. There’s a blacksmith’s camp up ahead, they’ll do demos and you can watch them work pretty much all day long. And there’s games over here, like bocce and stuff, and aaaaaall along in here,” he grinned, tracing his index finger over the winding paths, “There’s stuff to buy, shows to watch, food to eat, you name it. They even have a giant rockinghorse.”

 

“A _what_?”

 

“Oh yeah.” He smirked at the mystified look on Keith’s face.

 

Shiro loved sharing this little temporary world he loved with the _man_ he loved. He’d been so afraid Keith would think it was stupid, only fun for a bunch of old people and drunks or something. But Shiro was relieved to see that, as with everything, Keith exceeded his expectations. He’d put real thought into showing up to this weird place, just to make Shiro happy. And he hadn’t made fun of his, objectively, extremely nerdy costume, nor did he object to being seen with him. It was nice to be able to share this side of himself with someone – especially when it was Keith.

 

“Hey,” he called, his throat getting a little tight with emotion. Keith turned to look up at him expectantly.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Can I kiss you right now?”

 

Shiro watched Keith’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “In the middle of the street?”

 

“Absolutely.”

 

Keith shrugged his shoulders, looking off to the side with a half-smile curling onto his lips. “Yeah, alright.”

 

The pink blush lightly dusting Keith’s cheeks was one of the most beautiful things Shiro had ever seen. As Keith leaned up a little, Shiro leaned down, and they met in the middle for a soft and tender kiss. Nothing saucy, nothing heated, just a token. A quiet declaration of Shiro’s love.

 

“Y’know, it’s a good thing I’m _not_ a performer. If I were a _real_ paladin, I’d feel like getting up to some good old-fashioned festival combat to win your affections right now.”

 

Keith’s expression flattened into an amused, skeptical look. “Slow down, knight of the realm, did you forget you already have it?” He smiled wryly, giving Shiro a quick peck on the cheek before grabbing his hand and tugging him along. “Hurry up, I wanna see those blacksmiths.”

 

 

 

It was a jam-packed morning, with Shiro leading the way to explore what the faire had to offer. Before it got too hot, he suggested they backtrack a little and start by the lake. Getting anything with the sun beating down on them out of the way early would leave more time for them to walk the shady paths of the tree-lined grounds while the sun was high in the sky. Shiro had a sneaking suspicion Keith would enjoy starting the day off with a bang.

 

“Ever seen somebody fire a cannon before?”

 

Keith whipped his head around to face him, eyes wide with both alarm and interest. “No, I’ve never ‘ _seen anybody fire a cannon before_.’ Are they allowed to do that??”

 

Shiro laughed. “Not in the way you’re thinking. They have a couple small ones, actual medieval size. Not the big huge ones you see in the movies, those came way later. They point them toward the lake and launch the artillery into the water, it’s pretty sweet! Oh yeah, also they have a trebuchet.”

 

Shiro’s cavalier attitude about all this was stunning. “You keep adding things on like it’s perfectly normal, is _everything_ big here? Giant rockinghorse, giant catapult… what next? Do they have giant chickens, too?”

 

“Actually the turkey legs are pretty massive, yeah,” Shiro snickered good-naturedly, curling an arm around Keith’s waist. “Anyway, let’s go, they’re gonna be starting the demo soon.”

 

A few minutes of hustle later found them lakeside, the quiet water sparkling in the sun as tiny waves pushed by the gentle breeze lapped at the shore. As Keith had figured, the trebuchet was easy to spot, and they listened to the enthusiastic chief artilleryman rattle off some brief history and facts at the top of his lungs for the crowd. When they prepared to light the first cannon, Shiro pulled Keith closer to him with excitement, and Keith wasn’t complaining.

 

“Careful, it’s gonna be loud.”

 

“You don’t say,” Keith marveled mockingly with a flat smile. He leaned against Shiro for support, curling his arms around Shiro’s elbow to hold him. “Are _you_ okay with loud?” He wasn’t about to expose Shiro to something that might trigger a flashback just for the novelty of it.

 

Shiro smiled, delighted, and a little touched by his concern. “Oh yeah, this’ll be okay. I’ve seen them do it plenty of times before, and it sounds different enough that it doesn’t bother me too much. But maybe I’ll hold on tight, just in case.” That affectionate look was back again, the one Keith privately referred to as ‘the gooey face.’ Moments like this were what Keith lived for, just the two of them loving each other.

 

The artillery crew stated out with the small firearms, working their way up to the ground cannons. With each concussive blast echoing over the wind and the lake, the two of them jumped a little and held on tighter. The first loud boom drew more passerby into the crowd, and soon they were caught up in a throng of people whooping and cheering for each successive launch. Keith commented on something, but Shiro couldn’t hear him over the din. “What?” he prompted, having to shout though Keith was right next to him.

 

“I said I was hoping there would be a bigger splash! When they hit the water!” he belted back, causing Shiro to laugh.

 

“Me too, my first time! But they’re working up to it, one more volley and they’ll be launching the trebuchet!”

 

Keith was definitely on board for that. When it was finally time, several men and women took up positions on different sides of the wooden machinery. They checked and re-checked the mechanisms, tugging gently on the ropes to make sure everything was taut while the master cannoneer reminded the crowd of the safety rules.

 

With a wry smile, Keith whispered into Shiro’s ear. “Is this the part where they say not to try this at home?”

 

His breath catching in his throat, Shiro’s face heated at the sensation of warm breath ghosting over his skin. He could tell it wasn’t just the sun that was making him feel hot. Fortunately, Keith seemed to interpret his stuttered gasp as a small chuckle and didn’t notice.

 

The cannoneer had the whole crowd shout out a countdown to build up suspense, and Keith could feel the anticipation building in his toes. He took the opportunity to clasp Shiro’s hand between both his own. They locked eyes, grinning like kids, and joined in loudly.

 

 _“Three! Two! One!”_ There was a split second of pause as a stocky man with a mane of curly hair and a braided beard reached out with a long metal rod to release the anchor that held the rope. Freed instantly, the arm of the trebuchet lurched forward with a creak and launched a plaster boulder into the sparkling waters of the lake. The crowd erupted into cheers – and Shiro was pleasantly surprised to note that Keith was among them. He was whooping approvingly, a huge grin on his face as he watched the ripples make their way out from the impact.

 

“Thank you so much everybody for coming to see us today! If you have any questions for his Majesty’s Royal Artillery, feel free to stick around! Anybody who wants to volunteer to come back at 6AM Monday morning to help us fish the cannonballs out of the lake will be deputized as an honorary puddle pirate, hahaha!”

 

 

 

While they were by the lake, they checked out the nearby stadium for a falconry exhibition – hosted by what Keith was awestruck to find out were _real falconers_. Actual birds of prey lounged on their leather and wood perches, some hooded in preparation for the coming demonstration. For the birds’ safety, the audience wasn’t allowed to get too close, and they sat in the bleachers with the rest of the crowd. Keith was watching the birds with interest when a sudden snort immediately to his right caught his attention.

 

“Hey, look at the barn owl. It kinda looks like you!” Shiro said, a cheeky grin plastered onto his face.

 

Keith frowned, and followed his gaze to the white and caramel owl resting on its perch. “What the hell, Shiro! I don’t see the resemblance,” he groused.

 

“You make that face when you eat something too sour,” Shiro giggled, watching the owl squint, and squeezed Keith’s hand.

 

The birds were impressive hunters. It wasn’t often that Keith got the chance to see something like this, let alone up so close. The falconer explained each step of the process, reminding the crowd not to reach out and to keep their food tucked away to avoid any accidents. “They are hunters, after all,” she admonished gently. He demonstrated how they train the birds with fur and leather lures, always rewarding them with bits of meat to keep it fair. She spent a few minutes showing off each bird and letting them hunt for the crowd, talking about their unique features and how each hunted. By the third impressive swoop right over the bleachers, Keith was completely enthralled.

 

“This is so fucking cool,” he whispered, mindful of the kids in the stands around them. Shiro squeezed Keith’s leg happily, nodding in agreement.

 

When the demonstration was finished, the birds were taken away from the crowd to rest in their shady, quiet enclosure and the falconer took questions. How many years she’d been doing this, what kind of training was needed, where the birds come from. It turned out they were rescues, either once-wild and too injured to hunt on their own or born with disabilities and raised from infancy.

 

“We don’t hunt with them for food, it’s easier to get meat from the grocery store these days after all,” the handler joked. “These birds couldn’t hunt on their own in the wild, but this way they can still fulfill their natural instincts – and show you what they’re made of. We do it to educate people, so you can learn to love them like we do, and respect them when you see them in the wild. Most of these birds are threatened or endangered, and the more we understand them the more we can protect them.”

 

 

 

After the show, Keith turned to Shiro with stars in his eyes. “Shiro, that was _awesome_.”

 

Shiro didn’t know why he’d been worried. Keith was having a wonderful time, and it gave him so much joy to see him having fun and enjoying himself so openly. His self-consciousness from earlier seemed completely forgotten.

 

“What’s next?” Keith asked, rummaging through Shiro’s backpack for the map. “We were gonna see a show, right?”

 

“Mhm, and then probably lunch. If we hustle, we can probably make it to the Washing Well Stage in time to grab a shady spot.”

 

“…You wanna run that by me again, Shiro? The _Washing_ Well Stage?”

 

Looking superior, Shiro put a hand on Keith’s shoulder. “Please, no trip to the faire is compete without seeing the Washing Well Wenches! There’s a lot of splashing. …And belching, depending on how many people ‘donate’ a beer,” he added on as an afterthought.

 

 

 

Arriving at their next stop, Keith scanned the stage with a little trepidation. It was a cool set, for sure: a muddy cottage with clotheslines strung all around it, and a giant wooden basin on the stage up front. But in a messy scrawl, there were words painted in whitewash onto the side of the ‘building.’

 

‘ **DROP THY BRITCHES HERE** ’

 

**‘GOOD, CLEAN FUN…**

**WET, DIRTY WOMEN’**

 

“Shiro…” Keith began cautiously, “What kind of ‘show…’ _is_ this?”

 

Shiro belted out a laugh, plopping down onto a bench as the crowd from the previous performance cleared out. “Don’t worry your gay little heart about it, it’s not a strip tease or anything. This is a family event, remember? They play a couple of medieval laundry girls, it’s a comedy performance. But I mean really, Keith, you’re telling me you can’t stomach a few… _dirty_ jokes?”

 

Shiro looked entirely too pleased with himself for Keith’s taste. He gave him a quick shove that nearly toppled him from the bench, grinning the whole time. “Shut your fucking mouth before I dunk you in that goddamn wash bucket,” he grumbled, trying not to laugh.

 

 

 

As the show wrapped up, Keith fished his wallet out of his pouches to leave them a tip for a job well done; Shiro did the same. On their way out they dropped their money into the outstretched tip basket with a happy nod at one of the Wenches.

 

“So… what now?” With awe, Keith realized the day wasn’t even half over. It wasn’t even noon yet.

 

“Oh, it’s _turkey time_.” Shiro said with smooth delight. “Brace yourself Keith, things are about to get wild and messy. I would recommend getting an extra bottle of water just to wash yourself up afterward.”

 

Quirking up an eyebrow, the corners of Keith’s mouth twitched up in amused disbelief. “Jesus, are we talking about lunch or mud wrestling?”

 

Shiro snorted, unable to help himself. “Actually, they have that too.”

 

“You are just blowing me away with all this place’s secrets. I’m half expecting to find a coded message in my turkey bone.” Keith chuckled and tugged Shiro along to the open food pavilion they’d passed on their way in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is 90% written, I'm just tired of keeping it to myself! So here's the first half, and the latter half will be up in a few days! Don't forget to tell me what you think, comments and kudos are really appreciated ;u; Come chat with me, and celebrate sheith and gay shiro, on twitter at @rollingjules!


	2. He is of noble countenance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Shiro's own words, it's turkey time.
> 
> Afterward they get some shopping done, and meet an old friend of the paladin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You uhh.... may have noticed the chapter count has gone up! That would be because Shiro and Keith WON'T SHUT THE HELL UP, lmao, and I just went with it because I write purely for fun, lol.

They passed costumed characters on the streets, fully decked out and even interacting with patrons in-character. Keith was a little impressed at the sheer amount of detail that went into _acting_ like you stepped out of a royal carriage, or just literally hadn’t bathed in your life and were missing half your teeth. Shiro pointed out recurring characters, explaining that you could run into them every weekend as they milled around entertaining on the grounds. A troupe of nuns, another pretzel seller, and a man dressed like a pig rider with an actual full-sized pig puppet around his middle. There was so much to see Keith felt like he was giving himself whiplash trying to take it all in. Not to mention everything he could _hear_. Musicians everywhere; some on stage, some planted by the roadside, some just walking up and down with the crowd. On strings, pipes, and vocals, some on the microphone, some just screeching. An insult comic riffed off of people in his own audience. Clapping, drumming, clinking and banging, kids laughing… Keith felt like this was the _very definition_ of chaos and mayhem, but probably in the best kind of way.

 

Now that they weren’t visibly rushing somewhere, occasionally people would stop them to compliment Shiro on his costume. A lady that looked suspiciously like a _Warcraft_ cosplayer gave him a passing high-five. Once or twice, parents flagged him down to get a picture of him with their kids. Each time, Keith stepped away to let him have his moment of cool. And each time, Shiro threw an arm around his bicep and hauled him back in. It meant a lot to him that even though this was really for all intents and purposes a Shiro thing, his boyfriend never failed to make sure he was included. Even after being with Shiro for months, he was still getting used to that quiet sort of attentiveness, that gentle devotion.

 

Things quieted considerably when they got to the food court, set up market-style with fake storefronts and whitewashed wood buildings. The chance to be somewhere a little more subdued for a while was a bit of a relief after such a full morning. Most people were either milling around sizing up their options or absorbed in their food, be it kebabs, rice, or deep-fried carnival fare. Though he’d been talking up the turkey legs all morning, Shiro was sure to insist that Keith could get whatever he wanted.

 

“I mean that’s like, part of the experience right? It seems a little blasphemous not to, that was half of what I _knew_ about Renaissance faires before this,” Keith laughed.

 

“Well if you’re happy with that, then so am I,” Shiro smiled. “At least they’re cheaper here than they are at Disney.”

 

It was way too hot for alcohol, refrigerated or not, especially with Shiro carting around his extra forty pounds of knightly decoration. As they stood in line, first for their food tickets and then to hand them over as they pleased at the actual storefronts, they decided to forego booze entirely for the day. They ended up with a hefty leg of turkey apiece, and Shiro carried half a dozen bottles of water in one arm while Keith was in charge of paper plates and their napkins.

 

“This can be kind of a two-handed job, if you want anything else we should do it one thing at a time.” Shiro explained as he spied a mostly-free table and booked it to grab them a spot. He laid down his water collection and waved Keith over with his newly freed hand.

 

Keith settled in across from him, setting both of them up with a plate and a hefty pile of napkins. Shiro held out the wrapped end of his turkey leg, butcher paper crinkling. “Can you hold this for a second? I need an armor break.”

 

Keith took it immediately, holding Shiro’s carefully while he sized up his own. Obviously, this would require some strategy. It would test his stamina _and_ his stomach capacity, but the raisin bran he had for breakfast seemed like a lifetime ago. Keith felt up to the challenge. Meanwhile, Shiro set about the task of unbuckling his armor plates and sliding out of his gauntlets. Each piece that came off left him feeling a little lighter and more ventilated, until he had a huge pile of painted costume bits next to him.

 

“Y’know,” Keith began, talking with his mouth full again (though Shiro didn’t mind), “When you take it all off it doeshn’t look as impresshive. Are those _backpack_ shtraps??” he asked, squinting at the buckles.

 

“Well, kinda? They’re just plastic buckles and one-inch webbing,” he explained as he shook out his shoulders, chain shirt rattling and glinting in the sun. “The idea is it just for it to look fancy when you _wear_ it, that doesn’t mean it can’t be easy to use. Did you think I had a bunch of leather and metal under there?” he prodded with a grin.

 

Pouting around his turkey leg, Keith gave him a look. “It’s an impressive picture all together like that, it leaves a lot to the imagination. It’s kind of implied.” Noticing that Shiro had stopped getting out of it and was reaching over for his lunch in Keith’s other hand, he frowned. “Aren’t you gonna take the chainmail off too? Isn’t it hot?”

 

Shiro shrugged his shoulders. “It’s kinda like weight training after a while, and to be honest it’s a big production to get it on and off even _without_ a prosthetic arm. Once it comes off, it’s not coming back on, and I am _not_ carrying it around on my shoulder all day. Plus, without the armor on top I’m getting great air circulation already. I can’t _wait_ for you to smell my pits,” he joked, jutting his chin out with his best trashy grin and leaning forward on an elbow.

 

“Shiro that’s fuckin’ _gross_ , never say that to me again.” Keith laughed and swatted at any threatening stench clouds headed his way.

 

“You loooove me!” he reminded, singsong voice dripping with affection.

 

Keith flashed a playful grin and huffed. “Maybe after you shower again.”

 

It turned out Shiro couldn’t finish his turkey leg, having been heavily hydrating all morning _and_ tanking up on an energizing breakfast. Raisin Bran Keith, however, was still feeling half-starved, and Shiro gladly handed it over to him. With his mouth fully occupied chowing down, Keith whined appreciatively in thanks, his sticky face the picture of gratitude. He happily held onto both, deciding to finish Shiro’s mostly-eaten one first to get all the good little nibbles off.

 

Shiro, unprepared for the absolute vision that was his boyfriend dual-wielding turkey legs, quietly looked on. Keith, in his rumpled old button-down shirt and a carpetbag vest, with a smudge of dirt on his forehead from god knows where, was the most wonderful thing he’d ever seen.

 

 _I love him_ , he thought, _he’s an angel_.

 

Two turkey legs later Keith was absolutely covered in sweet, tangy sauce. He licked it off his fingers with almost comical care, and Shiro was reminded of a small child wanting to get every last morsel. Keith was cute that way, strong and wiry but surprisingly innocent when you caught him at the right moment. Shiro fished around in his bag for baby wipes and gestured for Keith to lean over the table. “C’mere, you’ve got some on your face.”

 

“Which part?” Keith asked, leaning in anyway.

 

“Your whole face,” Shiro teased smugly, gently wiping sauce away. “How did you manage to get it on your nostril? Like, the little nostril buttcheek, the little nostril crack where your cheek is??” Keith was as mystifying as he was talented.

 

Keith snorted, grabbing a spare wipe to clean his hands up. “ _The little nostril buttcheek_ ,” he echoed with fake reverence. “Swoon.”

 

The two of them joked and flirted for a few minutes, Shiro taking his turn to submit to a much less intensive wipedown from Keith. “Hang on,” Keith said when Shiro pulled back, “We missed a spot. Come back here.” He beckoned him over with a quick gesture.

 

“Really? I don’t feel anyth-” As Shiro leaned over the table, he was cut off when Keith pressed in to kiss him squarely on the mouth, looking very pleased for having tricked him. His cocky smile burned Shiro up; it was his favorite sensation on his lips when they kissed.

 

“And you said _I_ was the smooth dork,” he muttered, stealing a quick peck of his own before he sat back.

 

Sufficiently de-stickied after their main course, Shiro dumped their water bottles into his backpack for later and they stood in line again at a snack stand for dessert. Keith was enticed by the sign advertising chocolate-covered bananas, though he wrinkled his nose at Shiro when he suggested he try it with sprinkles. “It’s already mostly frozen, why would I do that to myself?”

 

“Uh, because it’s _delicious_?” Shiro said haughtily, ordering himself a chocolate-dipped slice of cheesecake. He watched approvingly as the vendor reached into the box freezer, speared a slice onto a popsicle stick, dipped it in molten chocolate and rolled it around on a flat pan to top it with a positively heinous coat of colorful sprinkles. Keith looked on in disbelief, clutching his frozen treat close to him without bothering to hide his horror.

 

“Why would you do that? It’s _cheesecake_.”

 

“Extra crunchy this way.” Shiro flashed him a quick smile as they left the stand, taking a big bite out of the tip of it. The audible crunch from the cooled chocolate coating and the grinding of the sprinkles in Shiro’s teeth was surprisingly loud, for how small it was. For his part, Keith took little bites of his banana to savor the taste and get the best chocolate-to-banana ratio.

 

“I thought you said you were full,” he grumbled around a mouthful of frozen fruit.

 

Shiro’s free arm disappeared behind Keith, and he felt a familiar hand slip into his back pocket. With no small amount of self-satisfaction, Keith congratulated himself mentally on preparing for this exact moment. He was so busy basking in his own foresight he almost missed what Shiro was saying to him.

 

“There’s always room for cheesecake, it’s like a life principle.”

 

“You sound like a wine mom,” Keith teased, bumping Shiro’s hip with his own as they walked.

 

 

 

After a bit of milling around, Keith noticed that Shiro was letting him lead the way. “What, no more schedule to keep after we hauled ass all morning?”

 

Shiro chuckled, feeling tempted to squeeze Keith’s butt but holding off for the moment. “Well, I was actually wondering if you felt like doing any shopping. We haven’t really looked into the shops much yet. I know you don’t exactly carry a wad of cash on you, but that’s no problem. See?” He pointed with his finished popsicle stick over to a custom leatherbound bookmaker. “They take Lady Visa and Master Card,” he said, reading off the sign posted on the awning of their tent.

 

“Master who? Master- oh. Mastercard. They take credit cards, I get it. Ha ha, Shiro, good one.” Keith rolled his eyes with an exasperated smile. He pulled the stick out of Shiro’s hand lightly and tossed both of theirs into a passing trash can.

 

They browsed the books quietly, Keith taking a polite interest in conversation with the leatherworkers trying to promote their wares. Knowing that everything was done by hand, even the bookbinding, Keith had figured that they would be a little pricey, but he wasn’t quite prepared for the hefty pricetags on even the relatively plain pocket notebooks. “Oh wow, these are…” Suddenly very aware of the three pairs of eyes on him, Keith shut his mouth before he could be the asshole that said ‘ _expensive_.’ “...Really pretty,” he finished, pointing out one that had smooth gems worked into the leather of its spine.

 

He felt a hand come down gently on his shoulder, and Keith was relieved to realize that it was just Shiro. He was looking at him with a soft sense of pride, like the classic Shiro gooey face but ramped up to eleven – as if Keith had just navigated a tense diplomatic agreement, not simply avoided being a bit rude in passing to a total stranger. He knew that this place meant a lot to Shiro, but Keith couldn’t help but be surprised at just how _touched_ Shiro was that he was having a good time. It didn’t seem like that big a deal to Keith, but Shiro seemed to appreciate every tiny bit of consideration he put into it. He wondered if maybe Shiro’d had to deal with less than gracious guests in the past.

 

Moving on from the bookshop, next door they found themselves in a much larger tent lined with racks of historic-looking clothing and outerwear. Keith had seen a few of the big costume tents around so far, but none of them had been quite this… colorful. It took him a few seconds of close examination to realize that the long stripey tendrils of fabric wrapped over half the entranceway were pairs of striped stockings, tied around the poles of the tent _and_ the racks themselves.

 

“It’s like mall Santa elf depot in here,” he muttered, causing Shiro to choke on the swig of water he was taking at that very moment. Keith wasn’t feeling very merciful, and didn’t mind laughing at him.

 

While Shiro cleared his throat, he gestured for Keith to take a look around. He began to browse, figuring out for himself that things were sorted by age group into child and adult, light to dark colors, keeping outerwear and tops separate from bottoms. Keith waded out from in between two rows of tiny fluffy tutus and princess dresses and made his way over to the more masculine-looking side of the adult section. Shiro caught up quickly, and they were both greeted by a cheerful shopkeeper.

 

“Well, sir paladin! Come to outfit your squire for your journey? You’ve come to the right place, we’ve got the finest garments you’ll find anywhere from here to Wozblay!” His blue pumpkin pants and feathered wide-brimmed hat made him hard to miss, but he was definitely doing his best to get their attention _verbally_ as much as visually. His long coat draped over his shoulders and billowed around him as he gestured to his vibrant selection.

 

His raw energy was almost as blinding as his bright orange moustache.

 

Elbow-deep in a rack of dyed cotton shirts, Shiro laughed and turned to take Keith’s hand. “No, I’m escorting my noble prince to find something that pleases his eye and suits his handsome form.” He even winked at Keith as he finished.

 

“Wow, laying it on pretty thick there, huh?” Keith muttered, shy but not really displeased about it. Unfortunately, it seemed like Shiro didn’t hear him.

 

“Hang on… _Coran_? Is that you? I didn’t recognize you without your ponytail!” Shiro tromped over and lifted the older man up in a mighty hug, his feet leaving the ground as Shiro beamed at him and held him up. “It’s been forever!”

 

“Oh my! And here I thought you _meant_ to wander in here. I should’ve known,” Coran shook his head, a rueful smile on his face, “You never did raise your intelligence higher than that good old nine.”

 

“Hey!” Pouting, Shiro set him down and rested his hands on his hips. “Just because my _character_ wasn’t always with-it doesn’t mean _I’m_ dumb.”

 

Coran had already moved on to more important matters. “Who’s your prince then, eh? I don’t remember him from your dungeon-delving days, a friend from your classes maybe? Someone you were tutoring?” He rubbed his chin with his thumb and forefinger thoughtfully, studying Keith as if trying to place his face.

 

Keith got the sense that he could feel mildly insulted by his paternal sort of condescension, being talked about like he wasn’t standing right there, but he really just felt a little amused. Like a great-uncle at a birthday party trying to figure out who all Shiro’s friends were. Keith could tell it wasn’t out of any sort of malice, more like… an academic curiosity. He opened his mouth to introduce himself, but Shiro was already pulling him closer and beaming proudly.

 

“Oh, no, we didn’t have classes together. Though I guess we did technically kinda meet through school? My car broke down on the highway the morning of graduation, and the guy behind me pulled off to see if I needed help. I was really freaking out, but he called me a tow and I ended up at this super high-tech autobody shop. Which, turns out,” Shiro continued, looking to Keith with a broad smile, “was where Keith was helping his uncles out! …That’s what they are, right? Ulaz and the rest of them, they’re your uncles and aunts?”

 

Keith huffed out a small laugh as he recalled the memory. “Yeah, kinda. It’s complicated, extended family stuff. Ulaz and Thace basically showed up with you - and I was super pissed actually, because they pulled me in to work on your car right as I was headed out the door for a cheeseburger. But I’ve never been so glad some dumbass senior forgot to take his junk car in for a tune-up in my life.” His tone was joking, but his smile was gentle.

 

Shiro was quiet for a moment, oblivious to Coran’s appraising look as he watched the two of them. “You never told me that,” he said faintly. “You were seriously going to lunch when I came in? I almost missed you! …But come to think of it y’know, that does explain some stuff.”

 

“Like what?” Keith pressed, affronted.

 

Shiro was trying not to laugh. “Well when I saw the look on your face, I thought you were going to _kill_ me you were so pissed. Turns out I was just meeting Hangry Keith.”

 

“ _Hangry Keith_ doesn’t exist, Shiro, you made him up.” In the back of his mind Keith was aware that they veering off on a tangent, but Hangry Keith was the hill he would die on, goddamn it. A proper introduction would just have to wait.

 

Shiro scoffed, a mischievous tilt taking over his smile. “There’s a two-turkey-leg insurance policy that says you’re wrong, babe.”

 

Fortunately, Coran seemed amused and almost… pleased? He smiled with some sort of quiet approval in his eyes. Keith felt like he’d just passed a test of some kind. He couldn’t be sure of what Coran was looking for, but he definitely seemed to have found it.

 

“Anyway. Coran, this is my boyfriend Keith. Coran was our loremaster for the Monsters and Mana campaign my costume is from. That game was the best two years of my _life_! Well, my fantasy life anyway. Life’s been pretty good to me these days,” he explained, with a loving squeeze of Keith’s hand for good measure.

 

As his face pinked without his permission, Keith felt – not for the first time – like he would never get used to Shiro talking him up in front of his friends like that. It wasn’t that it was embarrassing so much as it was unusual, though Shiro seemed to be making a valiant effort to change that. He let Shiro continue to hold him close and rub his arm as he extended a hand out.

 

“It’s nice to meet you Coran. I’m Keith. You’ve really got a cool setup here,” he added as he gestured at the veritable fashion emporium around them.

 

Coran shook his hand firmly, moustache puffing out with each breath slightly as he spoke. “It’s taken me years to build all this up, but it’s certainly been a rewarding side job! I don’t do much traveling anymore, I tend to stick close to home, but it’s nice to pull out all the stops a few weekends every year like this!”

 

They talked amicably for a while, and with Coran backing him up Shiro was able to convince Keith to try on a couple things with only minimal grumbling. Keith had definitely not shown up today intending to shop til he dropped, but he had to admit he was curious to know what it would feel like to be all dressed up for real, not just in a hasty closet costume. The three of them set about the task of picking out something for Keith to start with, and Keith found he had more opinions than he’d thought.

 

He wasn’t interested in anything too bulky like the big tunics and doublets. And in this weather, the heavy brocades and hot wools were a bit much for him just by the look of them on the hangers. Extra ruffles seemed like a little much, and too many strappy, leathery faux armor pieces was just more than he thought he could handle – not to mention it would clash with Shiro’s plate mail, a consideration he kept to himself. With all those options ruled out, Shiro helped him pick out a few shirts to try. Just one hundred percent cotton, which surprised him – though he couldn’t figure why. Keith supposed he’d been expecting something fancy and historical, but after getting a look at what else there was to wear he could _definitely_ understand why it would have been a popular invention.

 

Eventually, he stepped out in a deep red cotton shirt with a loose high collar and buttoned cuffs. Coran disappeared for a moment and returned with a short black vest, trimmed in gold braid with little flecks of gold thread in the weave of the dark fabric. The texture was nice under Keith’s fingers, small woven circles and curved diamonds forming a subtle pattern when you looked closely. He slipped it on over the shirt and angled his body towards the standing mirror up against the tent wall. It was definitely different, in a good way, and it was comfortable – but Keith wasn’t about to trust his own judgment alone after his last costume mistake. He’d better ask for a second opinion, before he got too attached. “So… what do you think?”

 

Coran was pleased with his handiwork, nodding approvingly. “ _Very_ princely. With that belt you’ve got there, you look ready for the hunt!”

 

Shiro however was quiet, biting his lip, and for a tense few seconds Keith worried he didn’t like it. But Shiro’s hand flew up to cover his mouth as he cleared his throat deeply, and Keith watched his ears flush red with embarrassment. “You look _really good_ ,” he mumbled through his fist, sounding somewhat strangled. Keith couldn’t help but notice how Shiro paid special attention to the lines of his chest and the taper of his waist, where the vest hung lightly just along his ribcage.

 

Keith chuckled bashfully, trying not to blush himself. “Anybody can be a mannequin, I guess...” He knew he was hedging, he knew he was being modest, but what could he say to a glowing reaction like that? “I’m glad you like it.” He said it softly, barely more than a whisper – meant only for Shiro.

 

Just outside, the light shifted intensely as the sun was fully revealed from behind a fluffy cloud. Keith squinted in the brighter light shining in on them, eyes still adjusted to the softer light under the thick tents. “Damn,” he said, shading his eyes with his palm, “It’s about to get even hotter out there.”

 

“Well, I think I can fix that!” Coran shuffled back over, something large and feathery in his hands. As his eyes got re-accustomed to the bright light of the sun Keith recognized it as a hat, but just a simple word didn’t really begin to cover it. It had three plumes of tall, gracefully curled feathers: one black, one red, one purple, all with soft, fuzzy fronds that bounced with each step Coran took. The rich black felted material looked supple in Coran’s hands, and Keith spied a braid of black corded leather as a decorative band.  The brim was pinned up on one side with a gold button, reminding him of swashbuckling movies and musketeers.

 

“Think this’ll _top_ off your outfit, eh?” Coran set it atop Keith’s head gently, pleased with his joke. It was surprisingly comfortable. There was a definite weight to it, but it wasn’t as suffocating as Keith had expected. “You can uncock it if you like, too, that’ll give you more shade.” He indicated the gold button to show him.

 

“What do you think of it?”

 

Keith wasn’t sure how he’d pull it off, eyeing Coran’s own large hat apprehensively.

 

“Um, let me check the mirror? I actually haven’t seen myself at all yet…” He craned his neck over his shoulder to fiddle with the back buckle of his vest. “I feel like this should be a little tighter?”

 

Coran took a step closer to help him, but Shiro was at Keith’s side in an instant and instead he slipped away, off to help a group of young ladies admiring the flower crowns by the tent flap.

 

Shiro reached in to carefully adjust the band, sliding it just a bit tighter. “Tell me when, okay?” he instructed, voice barely above a murmur.

 

Nodding, Keith looked at himself in the mirror and rolled his shoulders to test out the fit. “Maybe a little more, a tiny bit.” It was honestly pretty alright where Shiro had put it, but he was quickly discovering he liked having Shiro attend him. He watched his reflection through the mirror, the careful look of concentration on Shiro’s face as he made just the slightest adjustment to the fit.

 

“How’s that, babe?”

 

Keith was smiling privately, appraising himself in the mirror and enjoying Shiro’s gentle presence at his back. “I think this is perfect.” Both the fit, and this little moment between them.

 

The hat though, that was a little much.

 

“It looks like… those folk tales for kids where the king yells at anybody who has fancier shit than he does. The feathers are all a little… much.”

 

“Really? I feel like you could make it work. It _is_ princely.” Shiro’s smile was tender as he leaned forward to rest his chin on Keith’s shoulder. Still admiring him in the mirror, he adjusted Keith’s waistband to fiddle with the tuck of his shirt.

 

Keith snorted, quirking up a dubious eyebrow. “This again. Really, Shiro? A prince?”

 

Innocently, Shiro curled his arms around Keith’s middle and pecked him on the cheek. “Well, you’re a prince to me… “  
  
“You’re the one wearing a crown,” Keith reminded him, poking the silver shape in the middle of Shiro’s forehead.

 

“Noo no no no, that’s my Diadem of Acuity! It gives me +1 to my Insight and Perception checks; it’s a magic item, not a mark of royalty.”

 

“ _Diadem of_ – god, you’re such a _nerd_.”

 

A nerd Keith loved with his whole heart.

 

 

 

In the end, Keith had Coran snip off one of the feathers and trim down the others, leaving him with a more modest red and the purple pair. He decided he liked it better that way, much less ostentatious. Less _campy pirate_ , more _fancy hunter_. Shiro had whined the whole time about how dashing and mysterious he looked with all three, and Keith simply replied that if he was relying on hat feathers to make him look handsome, then there wasn’t much to look at in the first place. That shut his boyfriend up immediately, but after seeing the clipped hat, Shiro did agree that it looked just as nice as before. “Just… more Keith,” he decided with approval.

 

When they were finally ready to make a purchase, Keith waved Coran over to the makeshift register and pulled his wallet out, but Coran merely shook his head. “Sorry Keith, your brave paladin’s already taken care of it! I’ve been sworn into financial secrecy, you understand.”

 

Keith whipped his head around to stare at Shiro until he caught on. Seeing Keith’s huge frown, Shiro only laughed. “I don’t know why you’re surprised. I _told_ you I was gonna take you shopping.”

 

Jaw clenching, Keith stormed over and tugged at Shiro’s cloak, lowering his voice. “Shiro. This hat is like, a _car payment_. You can’t buy me all of this,” he urged.

 

“Well, it’s a good thing we both know I finished paying off my car four months ago, and it’s gonna last me a long time because my boyfriend is the best mechanic for a hundred miles, then, isn’t it?” Shiro replied serenely, taking the hat off Keith’s head to plant a soft kiss on his forehead.

 

“Don’t let Kolivan hear you say that,” he muttered, morose. “And your car is _still_ a hunk of junk. It’s better than the piece of trash you were driving to graduation, yeah, but you have terrible car senses. I would never have let you drive that ticking timebomb off the lot. We’re mechanics, not miracle workers. Paying off the car just tempts fate to fuck with it, you know that.” Keith was a little vexed by the knowledge that his outfit now likely cost more than what he’d make in a week. It was too much.

 

“Yeah, you saved the miracle for my love life.” Shiro grinned with a wink.

 

Keith glowered at him. “I’m serious, Shiro, this is a lot of money to drop on me all at once. Are you sure?”

 

Shiro’s cheeky grin softened into a gentle smile, close enough to the gooey face that Keith could tell some serious tenderness was about to come out of his mouth.

 

“First of all, you know I make enough money with Altea to be totally fine. I don’t fly their crazy testers for nothing, y’know.”

 

“I thought you fly because you love flying, you jerk.” Keith grumbled, his defenses weakening.

 

“Yeah well, the money’s not bad either is all I’m saying.” Shiro chuckled, taking his hands to pull him closer. “And I do save up for this, it’s a nice treat for myself every year. This year I want it to be a nice treat for _you_.”

 

Keith could feel his face burning, so he could only imagine how red he must be. Sensing that Keith wasn’t fully on board but still too hesitant to say anything, Shiro continued.

 

“Besides, Coran gave me the friends and family discount anyway. If we hadn’t come here looking to shop, I probably never would have seen him. Me with my… what did you call it, my complete medieval wardrobe?” The corners of Keith’s mouth tugged up at that, and Shiro knew he was on the right track. “I would’ve had zero reason to come in here, without you I would never have seen an old friend. Whose business we can support with our money now, and again anytime we want to come back. Sound good?”

 

Keith shrugged his shoulders noncommittally, starting to calm down. “You make it sound like I’m out here doing great deeds for the community, I’m just happy to be here with you. So okay, spend your money I guess, but just remember you don’t have to _buy_ my happiness, alright?”

 

Shiro cracked a huge smile, setting a hand on Keith’s shoulder and squeezing him there. “You’re the best, baby.”

 

“Alright, stop flattering me with that cute face and that big smile. Who do you think you are, my boyfriend or something?” Keith’s face brightened into a crooked grin as he leaned up to kiss him.

 

“Yeah,” Shiro replied, his own smile turning cocky, “God, it’s like I’m trying to get you to _like_ me, _or something_. Good thing you already do.” He returned Keith’s kiss gladly. He liked that they could joke about it, but he really did feel lucky. He wouldn’t trade Keith for the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this installment! I always love hearing what you guys think, it really cheers me up. ;u; The last chapter will probably be shorter, just a quick thing to finish it up, but I liked leaving this one off here. Good old sappy sheith, that's always the best endnote <3


	3. Thy wit, more cutting than thy blade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith tries to get Shiro across the fairegrounds without making extra pitstops showering him in gifts and souvenirs. He achieves no success, lol. At least they actually make it to the knife show in the end... and boy is Keith in for a surprise when they get there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhhhh SURPRISE, THE CHAPTER COUNT WENT UP AGAIN. I really thought I was going to be wrapping things up, and I'm at that point now, but it would have made for a really dense last chapter so I decided to split it up. So.... here, have a surprise update, lol? 
> 
> A quick note that I wasn't sure how to tag the 'shiro spoiling keith because he heckin love the boy' aspect of this story because it's not sugaring, so.... more of that ahead, lol, but if that makes you uncomfortable just know there's no more big-ticket items.

They chatted with Coran a bit longer, but they had to take their leave when more customers came in seeking refuge from the midday heat. Coran pulled Shiro into an embrace so dadly it rivaled Sam Holt’s, and Shiro returned it happily. He turned to Keith next, drawing him in for a similar hug – and completely bypassing Keith’s extended hand. “No need for the formalities here, Keith, you’re part of the _Fashion Pirate_ family now!”

Keith laughed softly, patting Coran’s back to return the hug. “Thanks, Coran.”

Coran pulled him in closer, a glint in  his eye. “Now it’s time for the secret hugshake!” He wrenched Keith up off the ground with surprising strength, and whispered to him. “Shiro looks happier than I’ve ever seen him, and I’m so glad. You’re good for him. Thank you for that.”

Before Keith could reply, or even process the full implications of that statement, Coran was already setting him back down.

“Don’t be strangers, boys, you know the _Pirate’s Oasis_ is the best place to beat the heat!”

Coran saw them off with a smile and a wave, and soon they were on their way again.

 

 

 

Their next stop was the throwing knife demonstration, and by the look on Keith’s face Shiro could tell he was excited. He had carefully blocked out their schedule to include the full knife show for a reason, after all. While Shiro hadn’t come from an _heirloom hunting knife_ kind of family, he could still understand Keith’s appreciation for blades. Hell, the knife show was part of the reason he thought to invite Keith in the first place. Shiro had been worried the date would be a flop – watching two dudes in wooden clogs throw knives at each other was supposed to be his emergency measure.

 And as much as Keith seemed to be having a good time throughout the day, Shiro felt it was only fair to take him to _something_ that included his hobbies while they were here. He wasn’t sure if knives counted as a hobby, per se, but he did know it was something he would like. And in a weird, mixed martial arts kind of way, Keith was pretty good with a knife himself. It didn’t take a genius to figure out Keith would like to watch some professionals in action.

On the way there though, Shiro kept getting distracted. After years of attending, most of the stalls and tents were more like a wonderful part of the atmosphere to him. This was the first trip in a long, long time that made Shiro feel _excited_ about everything there was to see and do. And _buy_ , good lord Shiro had spent a lot of money here. He had his own hand-cut stone dice, he had his own cloak, he was fully stocked already; in a personal respect lots of things were old news. But _so much of it_ was exciting to show off to Keith. He felt like a kid again coming for the first time.

“Shiro, we’re gonna be late,” Keith admonished as Shiro outfitted him with several handblown glass bottles, testing out which ones looked nicest with his new outfit. “Can’t we come back after the knife show?”

Truth be told, Keith was not opposed to being a little fawned over, but he was worried about missing the excitement.

“Just a second baby, we’re almost done here right? Just pick out the one you like. Did you end up liking the skull?” He held up a sizeable bottle with careful detailing in the glasswork, the neck of the bottle widening out to form a pretty intimidating skull for the vessel. The glass had flecks and speckles of black in the swirling gradient of dark colors that formed the body, and it glistened sleekly in the sun. Keith had been eyeing it earlier and Shiro couldn’t blame him for it: like Keith had said when he spotted it, it was “fucking cool.”

“Too heavy, I don’t want to think about how much it would weigh if I actually put anything in it. This one is fine.” He patted the modest purple potion bottle Shiro had installed on a strap at his belt. “It matches the hat, too,” he added, pointing to the purple feather.

Shiro eyed him critically. “And you’re not just saying that because it’s expensive, right?”

Keith stared at him with a sigh. “Shiro, that thing is huge. One wrong move and I’ll be slapping myself in the dick with artisanal glassware.”

“Oh my god,” Shiro chuckled through a toothy grin, but something nearby caught his eye. “Alright, if you’re sure.” As an attendant in a tightly-laced corset and stripey pantaloons helped Keith remove the extras (he insisted he only needed one, despite Shiro’s attempts to get him a set), Shiro hustled off to the stand next door.

“Agh- Shiro! Where are you going?” Keith called after him, unable to follow his inclination to pursue with somebody else’s merchandise buckled to his body.

“Last stop, I swear! Be right back!” Shiro hurried off, leaving Keith to pick out a color for the leather belt strap to hang his bottle from.

While he was gone, Keith tried to take advantage of the opportunity to pay for something himself. The glassblower’s assistant in the poofy pants flashed him a winning smile.

“Sorry m’lord, your friend has already left his card with us. He was prepared for you to say that.”

“Little shit,” Keith said darkly. “Well… you tell me, what do you get the _actual_ Renaissance man who also has basically everything you could want from this place?”

She pondered that for a minute, crossing her arms in thought. “I know he’s a good customer, I recognized that bauble flask on his hip from our limited run three years ago...”

“Yeah, that’s the problem. He’s got all the cool stuff already. Do you have anything… small? It has to be discreet, I want it to be a surprise so it’s got to fit in here,” he explained, pointing to the pocket of his tool belt.

She tucked a stray lock of brown hair behind her ear and looked at him appraisingly. “Are you two here on a date?”

Out of everything he’d witnessed today, that was the thing that made Keith blush. “Yeah, he’s my boyfriend.”

She grinned. “What’s his favorite color?”

“Uh… well he really likes black, and purple, but it depends on what it is.”

With a wink, she walked away to pluck a vase full of glossy flowers off a wrought-iron table and bring it over to him. “What do you think of these?”

Keith turned his head quickly to make sure Shiro wasn’t around then leaned in for a closer look. It was a beautiful assortment of glass flowers: mostly roses, with orchids and tulips peppered among them. They looked fragile… but this could be the only opportunity he ends up having to get Shiro a surprise. _Better just go for it_ , he thought.

“Can I get these two?”

“Of course! I’ll wrap them up for you. Will it be cash or card today?”

“Cash is fine, how much do I owe you?” Keith pulled his wallet out, rushing to get this done before Shiro came back.

“It’ll be thirty-five for the two, and our business card is in here with them,” she added, gesturing to the small box she was carefully setting the roses into. “We have an online shop if you ever want to browse in private, too.” Grinning, she accepted his carefully counted exact change and traded him for the package.

“Thanks,” he chuckled, appreciating her discretion. He’d have to find the right moment to give them to Shiro, definitely before they left for the day. It would make it more special. Maybe back by the lake?

“Whatcha got there, babe?”

Keith jolted as Shiro returned, just as he was tucking the delicate box into his pouch. _Fuck_ , time to use that college education and bullshit his way through this.

“Oh, I said I was worried about losing the cork to the bottle so she packed up some spares for me and wrapped them up.” He gave the lady a weak smile, which she returned with a conspiratorial smirk.

“Don’t worry milord, we’ve got you covered.” She gave a quick nod and went about her business, straightening up the displays and smoothing out wrinkles in the flaps of their tent.

“And what do _you_ have there?” Keith asked suspiciously, noticing Shiro was carrying something. The chocolate banana in his hand was obvious, but the little gift pouch that dangled down from a ribbon looped on his pinkie finger was, at this point, absolutely dangerous.

“Don’t freak out – I saw them across the path and I thought of you, okay? They were only like twelve bucks, I got us a matching set. Here, open it!”

Keith was struck by how alike they were: he’d taken the opportunity while Shiro was occupied to buy them matching gifts, and then to find out that Shiro had only slipped away to do the same? Another gift was more than Keith could really handle at this point, but he was won over the moment that thought occurred to him. What he had with Shiro was special.

He huffed out a little sigh in part amusement, part happiness and held up his hand for Shiro to gently plop his latest purchase into his open palm. “Dork.”

The sparkle in Shiro’s eye was a delight any time, but seeing him all eager smiles and slightly crispy sunwarmed skin was all the sweeter after a day of excitement like this one. He almost didn’t want to look away. But, tearing his eyes from Shiro’s adorable, nerdy, slightly sweaty but still perfect angel’s face was just going to have to be a sacrifice he made.

It was worth it when he pulled out what was indeed a matching set: two necklaces, a tiny sword dangling from one and a shield pendant on the other.

“I know you said not to go overboard and I know I’ve been kinda outright ignoring that because I can’t help it and I really, _really_ fucking love you, but bear with me. It’s not every day I get to spoil you like this and keep you all to myself. It’s like a… heh, well, nevermind.” Shiro’s face pinked up in a way Keith could tell had nothing to do with the sun beaming down on them, but he didn’t elaborate on whatever he was about to bring up.

Keith opened his mouth to tell him to go ahead and say what was on his mind, but Shiro forged ahead. “Also they were two for twenty and that was a _really_ good deal,” he insisted rapidly, his eyes screwing shut and gently shaking his fists to emphasize.

“Uh oh, we’ve hit the Early Bird Special part of the date, folks. Shiro’s getting excited about Good Deals,” Keith said to no one in particular. “Hide your bratwursts and your socks with sandals, Dad of the Year is here to hunt down some Big Bargains.”

He knew he was being a little asshole, but he pressed a grinning kiss to Shiro’s lips anyway; and he could feel Shiro smiling into it as well. “Thanks,” he mumbled into Shiro’s cheek, pecking him there once just because he could. His kiss powers were limitless, it was so nice. He didn’t always feel up to it in public, but someplace more secluded, like the glassblower’s tent? With all eyes on the forge and the talented artisans creating masterpieces right in front of the crowd? So sue him for splurging on a little PDA. He could just stand here and admire Shiro’s face all day.

Alright, thoughts like that were only okay when he was falling asleep. To be _that_ out of it, he must be more tired than he thought. He always loved Shiro, but this level of giddiness wasn’t normal for him.

“…I think I need some of that spare water now. And maybe a break.”

Immediately Shiro began digging into his backpack, sliding it forward across his side to expose the zipper and reach in for a fresh bottle. “Hell yeah babe, it’s almost time for the knife show anyway. It’s just a quick walk from here, wanna go pick out our spot?”

When Shiro offered him the bottle, Keith drained it and promptly exited the tent. “Yeah. Is there shade? That might be nice. It’s getting hot under all these layers, even with the hat.”

 

 

 

 

On their way there, Shiro insisted on giving Keith the entire chocolate banana to cool him down. Keith did grumble initially about the unfairness of getting it all to himself, but he had to admit the near-frozen temperatures did do a lot to soothe his quickly overheating body. Mindful of Shiro’s full costume, Keith made sure to basically force Shiro to eat a bite or two. Shiro didn’t seem to mind, and when he passed it over Shiro wove his fingers between Keith’s and held his hand tenderly as they walked.

“I’m having a really good time. It’s like being here for the first time all over again, everything seems so awesome when you’re here having fun with me,” he said serenely, echoing his earlier thoughts.

Keith nudged him with his shoulder before he could get emotional. “I’m having a good time too, y’know. I keep saying you don’t have to break the bank to keep me happy, but I see you paying for shit behind my back Shiro. I do check the prices on these things.”

“I’m being good! I _didn’t_ get the skull bottle even though you said it was cool, I got you the cute little one you liked instead!”

“And it’s a good thing you didn’t, I don’t need a skull hanging from my belt loops. It _looked_ cool, but it feels more like something you’d find on a shelf at a frat house the week after Cinco de Mayo. Not really my style.”

Shiro considered that as they walked. “Yeah, it was a little bit much. Awesome, but it would look weird in your apartment.”

As the distinguished veteran of the fairegrounds, Shiro led Keith along, weaving through the crowds with ease until they arrived at Castle Stage: a raised wooden platform with a tall hand-painted backdrop of a medieval keep, complete with a green dragon flying through the clouds. The long wood benches facing the stage were beginning to fill up, but Shiro was determined to find Keith his shady spot. He deftly dodged a toddler sloshing iced lemonade around and pulled Keith over to one of the last remaining bits of shade. There were a few seats left on a bench near the middle, and Keith slid onto the cooler surface right as a gentle breeze blew in from across the lake. He sighed with contentment, taking his hat off to gently fan himself with it. Even with everyone around them buzzing with energy, it seemed peaceful and quiet. With the rustling of the leaves and the whipping of his hair around his ears, Keith reached over to pull Shiro closer to him and lean on his shoulder.

“Baby I thought you were hot,” Shiro pointed out. He was sweaty as hell himself, and the armor really trapped heat.

“Yeah, but you’re a better pillow and I’m tired. It’s nice to sit somewhere that doesn’t have a bunch of armrests and cupholders separating us for once.”

“Are you telling me you _didn’t_ enjoy going to see _Defenders of the Universe_ five times?” Shiro teased, eyebrow quirked up.

“Hell yes I enjoyed it, but this is nice too. Also there’s no backs on these benches, which means you can’t recline and fall asleep halfway through the movie like usual, you damn old-timer.”

Shiro scoffed breathily, poking Keith’s cheek as it squished into his pauldron. “Hey, those seats are comfortable! And you can’t say anything, you know you nodded off halfway through _Bii-Boh-Three_ -”

Their soft teasing was interrupted by the performers taking the stage, stepping out from behind the backdrop with kitchen knives in belt holsters. With their chef hats and wooden clogs, they were a real strange sight after a day of doublets and leather. They both wore dark knee breeches tucked into stark white stockings, and soft white shirts with billowing sleeves accented their movements with a flourish as they walked.

“Ladies unt gentle-like mens!”

One was slightly taller and very built with fat and muscle, making him out to be an intimidating figure with the knives on his belt. He wore a mustard yellow vest over his cotton shirt, double-breasted with a small rosette medal pinned to one side. “Hello dere good people of de faire! I am Hurgen, all de way from de land of milk and tulips, and dis my brudder Litz!”

Litz, comparatively scrawny with short-cropped hair and a blue vest, gave his best sultry wave. “Hi dere, ladies.”

Keith wasn’t sure if the accompanying wink was supposed to be part of the show or if he was playing it straight.

The two of them quickly hushed themselves to watch the show, Shiro curling an arm around Keith’s waist as Keith scooted up just a mite closer next to him.

After a quick safety briefing, complete with jokes about missing fingers and chopped-off earlobes, they began with some simple knife tosses. Hurgen would produce a blade from his hip holster, brandish it as he aimed, and throw it towards the wooden target board as Litz narrated. “Ass you can see-”

“Heheh, he said _ass_!”

“Shut up, Hurgen. Anyway what I am saying is, dese knives are very real! Please refrain from rushing de stage to adore me until _after_ de show, yah?” Litz attempted what was supposed to be a dashing pose, but again Keith couldn’t tell if it was supposed to be played for laughs.

“Litz, should we tell dem about what happened de last time we tried dis trick?”

“Oh, Hurgen! I’ve told you before, don’t effer mention Greta in front of me!”

“Oh brudder yes, I know, Greta was your faforite big toe. I’m soh sorry I chopped her off wit my killy knives…”

“An das why we wear de wooden shoes now friends, am I right? Hahah!”

The jokes were a little corny, but the two performers had such a fun energy to them it seemed to flow naturally between them. Keith glanced over at Shiro, who had a knowing smile on his face as he watched them – he’d probably seen this routine before. Shiro held him a little tighter for a moment in a quick, fond squeeze, and Keith rested his hand on Shiro’s knee.

 

 

Over the course of the show, the tricks got more elaborate and involved more throwing of the knives at _each other_. Well, Hurgen was the one doing the throwing; Litz was mostly holding the target for him. At some point, Keith had climbed off from halfway on top of Shiro to give them his full attention.

“Show de ladies some Dutch bravery, Litz!” Hurgen cajoled, aiming for the inflated balloon his ‘brother’ was holding up against the board merely inches from his body. Hurgen wound up his arm, aimed for just a brief moment, and let the knife fly.

The balloon was punctured with a loud pop, the audience jumping at the impact and the wooden _thunk_ that immediately followed when the knife embedded into the board.

Stone-faced, Keith watched carefully as they continued. He was leaned forward on the bench practically on the edge of his seat, his grip light on Shiro’s hand as he intently followed the movements of the knives.  “I could do that,” he mused, talking to himself.

A nervous bubble of laughter escaped Shiro’s lips before he could stifle it. “Yeah, baby, you could.” Shiro wondered with some panic whether or not he should be rearranging their schedule. He recognized that ponderous, calculating look a mile away. Keith was a little _too_ into it…

Maybe a couple rounds at the actual throwing knife booth would help him get it out of his system. The last thing he needed was to drop by Keith’s apartment and find holes in the front door. He was _reasonably_ sure it wouldn’t go down that way, because Keith was a grown man after all… But he also hadn’t intended to bring Keith here to inspire him to take up any dangerous new hobbies. After all, Keith was as determined as he was naturally talented. He _would_ be good at it, but 2AM knife practice wouldn’t exactly win him any points with his neighbors.

Up on the stage, Litz was getting into position. “Hurgen wat should we do for de audience next, huh?”

“Well you know, Litz,” said Hurgen, “I tink de good people were hoping for some extra danger on dis nice day, yah? Say YAH if you wanna see extra DANGERRRRR~!”

Keith chuckled as both of them beckoned the audience to cheer and respond.

“Yah!” Shiro called out loudly with the rest of the audience, and Keith quirked up an eyebrow at him.

“Really baby? Gonna shout my ears off?” Keith teased quietly.

“Hell yeah, audience participation is the best part! This is an interactive show, y’know?”

Satisfied with the energy in the crowd, the performers continued. Litz was hanging out by the target board, which Keith noticed was suspiciously tall… Tall, and wide enough for a person to stand in front of with just a few inches to spare on either side. Especially a skinny dude like Litz, all lanky limbs and sharp angles.

“Okay brudder, it’s time for de _Ladder of Death_! Ooooooh… yah, yah you people in de audience, say “ _ooooh_ ” for me would you!” Hurgen said, playfully striking an awed pose. One hip cocked, he brought his hands up to his face, pressing his fingertips to his cheeks in simulated wonder.

Shiro chimed in immediately. “Oooooooh!” He pulled an arm around Keith again to rope him in as physically as he was mentally. “Come on, Keith, have a little fun with it.” He pressed a tender kiss to Keith’s temple, and though Keith did grumble, he joined in with the applause nonetheless.

“De _Ladder of **Debt**_? Hurgen no, I have too many student loans from de Olde Dutch Cooking School! You know, from back in my _Hollandaise_ …”

Keith didn’t have to be encouraged to join them in groaning at that one.

“Litz, I swear to God I’m gonna kill you if you make dat dumb joke one more time.” Hurgen tapped his throwing cleaver to his holster of kitchen knives, making a light but threatening tinny sound.

“But Hurgen, de audience loves to be filled with _ladder_ , hahaaa-OH GOD!” Litz dodged the incoming cleaver deftly as it sailed past him, hitting the board with a very real _THUMP_.

Now he understood what Shiro meant when he’d said “comedy knife show.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I knew I wanted them to go to the knife show from the moment I first had this idea, but I only recently realized that the knife show itself is a perfect opportunity to give Lance and Hunk some deserved time in the spotlight, because what I ended up writing was perfect for them lmao. Late-stage stroke of genius, lol.
> 
> Don't forget you can follow me on twitter at @keithflippity! Come talk to me about sheith foolishness, or just tell me what you think in the comments here! Thank you guys for your support, it means a lot. I know I'm not exactly writing stuff people are breaking the door down to read, so to speak, so it's always a pleasure to hear from you ;u;


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